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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29143512">a catalog of interactions between an emperor and his most loyal servant</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamletcat/pseuds/hamletcat'>hamletcat</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>a catalog of interactions. [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood &amp; Manga</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 12:02:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,257</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29143512</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamletcat/pseuds/hamletcat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>in which lan fan cannot protect ling from everything.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dr Knox &amp; Lan Fan, Edward Elric &amp; Ling Yao, Greed &amp; Lan Fan, Greed &amp; Ling Yao, Lan Fan &amp; Riza Hawkeye, Lan Fan &amp; Scar, Lan Fan/Ling Yao, Mei Chan | May Chang &amp; Lan Fan, Mei Chan | May Chang &amp; Ling Yao, Mei Chan | May Chang &amp; Scar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>a catalog of interactions. [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2207412</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. october 3, 1922</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>good god i have been working on this for months i am happy. to finally show you it amen</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>49 days</p><p>Ling Yao, 22 years old, leader of a nation, still sneaks sticky buns from the palace kitchens and hides them in his sleeves.</p><p>In the palanquin down to the docks, a hand adorned with gold rings and ruby cuffs slips through the silk voile curtain and offers Lan Fan a chunk of still-steaming pastry.</p><p>She accepts it, and his qi starts to pulse like a flustered heartbeat. She can practically feel his smile through the tips of his fingers.</p><p>Lan Fan wonders if he is blushing; she wonders if she might love him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. october 5, 1922</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>47 days</p>
<p>"How would you feel about becoming an ambassador to Amestris?"</p>
<p>Lan Fan blinks. "Now, my lord?"</p>
<p>"I don't know," he says, not even looking up from his paperwork. "Soon."</p>
<p>"Are you unsatisfied with me, my lord?" She worries, that even after her years of service to the Emperor, he's still found reason to dismiss her.</p>
<p>"Of course not," he replies immediately, snapping quickly to attention. He turns to where she stands beside him, all familiar lightness gone from his expression. He looks the way he did, once, when one of his cabinet members accused him of being spineless(an accusation that was never presented again- to make a long story short, May wrote to Alphonse, who told Edward Elric, who wrote to Riza Hawkeye. No one dared challenge the Emperor's integrity after a reprimand from a princess, a renowned alchemist, an Amestrian general, and the man who saved the world.) "Of course not." His tone is firm, and Lan Fan is inclined to believe him. "I just- you're a people person, are you not?"</p>
<p>"My lord, I think you misunderstand my character," she says, restraining a laugh as she remembers all of the enemies she nearly made in Amestris- has made in Xing. "I'm not much of a diplomat."</p>
<p>"Hm." He seems thoughtful, his eyes narrowing in concentration. "I'll have to find somewhere else, then," he mumbles, barely audible. Lan Fan has to strain to hear him, and even then only catches a few words.</p>
<p>"Are you reassigning me, my lord?"</p>
<p>Ling sighs, his pen stilling as he seems to turn words over in his mouth. "Not that I want to. I just think you..." He trails off. "I think you have talents that could be used elsewhere. Maybe not as a diplomat, but..."</p>
<p>"I don't understand."</p>
<p>"You're too gifted to be stuck in service to me all your life. You've already lost enough," he says, his gaze scraping her automail arm, tracing the outline of the mask she inherited from Fu.</p>
<p>"It's an honor to serve my Emperor," she replies automatically, mechanically; it is a phrase she's been taught since birth, engrained into her for decades. She knows as certainly as she knows how to breathe. "I've been your servant as long as I can remember, and I don't see why that should need to change."</p>
<p>"Your loyalty will be your downfall." His qi seems disturbed. Lan Fan does not like the intensity of it all- his words, his expression, even the angle of his hands is too much, and she worries.</p>
<p>"My lord-"</p>
<p>"Wouldn't you rather be promoted? Become a general? Your strategy is impeccable-"</p>
<p>"For me, it is." Her fists clench at her sides. "I was trained to be unpredictable, and to sacrifice my own body to save others. I would not let a soldier die on my watch, and I only have one life to give."</p>
<p>"So you do," he assents, the understanding of her mortality weighing heavily on him, in a way that it has never affected her. "You do. It's only that-"</p>
<p>"I don't like this. I will serve you as long as you live, and after that I will serve your wife, and I will train your children. And then, once all of my work is done, I will die an old servant, as my grandfather did before me." She purses her lips and frowns at him. "That is my life plan, and you will not be able to change it." Belatedly, she tacks on a "My lord."</p>
<p>He smiles fondly, but it's tinged with something that Lan Fan does not recognize. "Of course. I'm sorry for troubling you, Lan Fan."</p>
<p>"Yes. Well." She looks away from him, locking her hands together to hide her discomfort.</p>
<p>He does not push the subject again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. october 10, 1922</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>42 days</p>
<p>It is a long way from Xing to Ed and Winry's small hometown of Resembool- involving a boat, several trains, and a taxi cab that Ling insisted on hailing himself, which took about twenty minutes and ended up being an entirely unsatisfying experience(Ling pouted about that misfortune for nearly a full day).</p>
<p>It doesn't matter if I love him, Lan Fan thinks as she watches him sleep on the train. There's no point to it.</p>
<p>She buries the feelings in her mind, beneath piles of clothing and loose change and times she wanted to kiss him and could not.</p>
<p>Her heart flutters when he stirs all the same.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. october 17, 1922</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>35 days</p><p>She is, technically, his guard at the Elric wedding.</p><p>He denied his usual entourage, insisting that he was safe with just Lan Fan, and good God, people, I helped him save the world- don't you think he's in debt to me, just a little? The thought of it makes her laugh, because Edward Elric is not the type of man who repays his debt to anyone. From what Ling tells her, he still owes the uptight Colonel 520 cens.</p><p>She is his guard at the wedding, but he insisted she not wear her uniform and refuses to allow her to crouch in the rafters the entire time. "They're your friends too, Lan Fan, I'm not going to make you watch over me all night," he says on the train, fiddling with the ring on his index finger, "just stay by my side." </p><p>A small, secretive smile begins to form over his face when she nods passively and goes back to her book. She suspects that this is another ploy to trick her out of her comfort zone and chooses not to argue with him; when Ling gets an idea in his head, it's impossible to talk him out of it.</p><p>Lan Fan sits alone at the wedding reception, tucked safely at a table in the corner. She surveys the room shrewdly, trying to look as un-intimidating as possible(an effort that is clearly for naught, since most of the Elrics' wedding guests avoid her like the plague.) </p><p>She receives a few visitors- May and Alphonse, who amuse her with their tendency to talk over each other, each desperate to finish a story that they both know by heart; a blonde woman that she remembers to be Riza Hawkeye, the lieutenant who took care of her on the way back to Central City the night of the battle with Gluttony; even Ed drops by to offer her a drink and tell her lighthearted tales of his time in Xerxes. </p><p>These short encounters don't mean much- she spends the majority of the evening on her own, trying to decide if it's worth the risk of standing and losing her table. She argues both sides: it is good to be sociable, Lan Fan, what good is a wallflower?- But if I get up, I could lose sight of the young lord and end up causing a disaster.</p><p>Before she can even decide, Dr. Knox sits beside her in a huff- clearly seeking to escape the boisterous party, but masking his disdain with a demand that she show him her injured arm. </p><p>"You're not oiling your automail properly," he says, rolling up the bell sleeve of her dress to examine the plate where skin and metal fuse.</p><p>"Of course I'm oiling it." She tugs her sleeve down, meeting Knox's gaze with a stern glare that would normally make anyone back down.</p><p>Of course, Dr. Knox is not just anyone, and he meets her with a patented scowl of his own. "I never said you weren't oiling it. I said you're not doing it right." He knits his brows together and purses his lips, sticking her with a paternal eye that almost makes her shrink back. "You're too stubborn."</p><p>"You don't know anything about automail, doctor," she says dismissively, waving her flesh hand at him and looking away. Her eyes sweep the room for Ling; she finds him standing beside the Elrics, and accidentally makes eye contact with him. </p><p>How long has he been staring? A faint pink glow dusts her cheeks as she averts her gaze, deciding instead to glower at the table like a moody child. </p><p>"I know plenty about automail. I recommended your grandfather that engineer-"</p><p>"He was well known in the first place," Lan Fan argues. "My grandfather could have reached the same conclusion by picking up a phonebook-"</p><p>"So I cut out the middleman. I figured you'd get back on the field faster if you found an engineer sooner than later." Dr. Knox gives her a dirty look. "Not that you paid much attention to the recommended recovery time."</p><p>"The young lord was in trouble. I did what was necessary."</p><p>"You did what you thought you had to because you're insane. Honestly, the fact that you're still alive is a damn miracle, and this young lord of yours-"</p><p>"Don't you dare." </p><p>"Calm down, tiger," he says, flicking a lazy hand at her. "I was just going to say he didn't need your help."</p><p>"I had to do my job. He would have died without me."</p><p>"I think you put entirely too much faith in yourself."</p><p>The phrase you're an ass crosses Lan Fan's mind. She does not say it aloud- in fact, she doesn't say anything. Instead, she looks to Ling, who seems to take that as his cue to come talk to her. </p><p>When she doesn't argue, the doctor continues, subtly following her gaze to the Emperor. "I don't know your boy as well as I know you, Lan Fan, but I can tell that he's just as strong as you. You trained under the same master, were held to the same standard. That much is clear." He analyzes Ling's movement with a practiced eye. "Huh. Kid doesn't walk the way he used to, though."</p><p>Lan Fan frowns, and the words escape her before she can stop it. "What do you mean?"</p><p>"He seems heavier on his feet. I remember how he ran when he was younger." Dr. Knox observes him quizzically. "From a medical standpoint..."</p><p>He trails off as Ling reaches the table, cheeks pink with exertion and clear inebriation. Lan Fan is left to wonder as the doctor claps his hand on her shoulder and takes his leave, inclining his head respectfully to the Emperor as he goes.</p><p>With a smile, Ling takes Dr. Knox's seat beside Lan Fan, propping his feet up on the table. "How's the old man?"</p><p>"Insufferable," she says absently, studying Ling's motion as he rounds the table, keeping a hand on the wooden surface of it despite the short distance; he comes to sit beside her. </p><p>Suddenly realizing the informality of her tone before, she falls silent and refuses to meet his gaze- Ling, unbothered, barks out a laugh that is swallowed by the buzz of the crowd. "I remember he was very blunt when we first met. I suppose nothing's changed?"</p><p>Nothing has changed, but she still tries to cover her tracks. "He's a good man. Stern, but he cares. I'm grateful to him." That much is true, no matter how much Dr. Knox tends to grate her nerves. "He was worried about my automail."</p><p>Ling takes a sip of his drink and swallows quickly, looking over at her with poorly-masked concern. "You're taking care of it?"</p><p>"Of course I am, my lord," she says exasperatedly, doing her best to disguise her irritation.</p><p>"Of course," he acknowledges with a solemn nod, his expressive face betraying his apprehension. He remembers himself quickly, face quickly dissolving into his usual squinty-eyed smile. "You've been sitting here alone all night." His tone falls somewhere between a question and an accusation. Lan Fan presses her lips together, avoiding his gaze.</p><p>"I've talked to everyone I'm interested in talking to," she says shortly, folding her hands together. "I'm enjoying myself."</p><p>Ling narrows his eyes, a cunning and mischievous look that is all too familiar to Lan Fan washing over his drunken face. "We should dance."</p><p>"We should not."</p><p>"Why?" he whines, reaching for her hand. He just barely grazes her fingertips as she retracts her arm into her sleeve.</p><p>"I can't protect you if I'm dancing with you," she says firmly, finally gathering the strength to meet his gaze, fixing him with a stare only comparable to Dr. Knox's. "I'm your bodyguard for a reason."</p><p>He sputters, his eyes flicking around the room and finally landing on Hawkeye, swaying at the very edge of the dance floor with General Mustang. "She's his bodyguard!" he argues spiritedly. </p><p>"My lord, that's different."</p><p>"How?"</p><p>"She's in love with him." Lan Fan says it before she can think the better of it and immediately turns bright red as a smile spreads over Ling's face. </p><p>He reaches for her again. "And you don't love me?"</p><p>"You're drunk, my lord," she says quickly, batting his hand away with agility and irritation akin to that of a cat. "It's unseemly for-"</p><p>"There are only friends here, Lan Fan. Come on," he pleads. "Don't make me make it an order."</p><p>"That isn't funny."</p><p>"I'll do it." When she doesn't budge, Ling clears his throat, waving a hand around like he's making some grand proclamation. "Lan Fan, as your emperor, I command that you accompany me to the dance floor. I am very inebriated," he says, coupling his slurred words with a chuckle that's halfway to a hiccup, "and fear my body of state may be injured if you don't at least walk me down to the floor." She stares at him, eyes narrowed. "That's official."</p><p>"There's no scribe here."</p><p>"Are you questioning your Emperor?"</p><p>He's backed her into a corner now. She fumes, not even trying to disguise it; he won't remember a moment of this come morning, anyway. "Fine," she assents, the faintest edge of annoyance in her voice. "One dance. One."</p><p>"I understand," Ling singsongs. "Just one." He moves faster than she thought he could, taking her automail hand in his and twining their fingers together; surprised, she notices that he doesn't even flinch at the coldness of it. He only grins, tugging her along in his wake.</p><p>He finds them a place in the center of the dance floor, hidden by the throng of people swaying merrily together, most just as drunk as Ling- if not more. They're shrouded in the heat of bodies pressed tightly together, cheek against cheek and hip to hip.</p><p>Ling does not pull her close. He puts a cautious hand on her waist, assuming the ballroom dance position he was taught as a child. Lan Fan follows suit awkwardly, placing a heavy hand on his tense shoulder. He smiles.</p><p>"Apologies."</p><p>"It's alright," he says, amused. "Just follow my lead."</p><p>His movements are decisive and easy to follow, and Lan Fan finds that she is more capable than she thought she was. </p><p>They end up dancing for more than one song, although his movements become less and less comprehensible, words slurring more and more even though he has not had anything more to drink.</p><p>Lan Fan's breath hitches as Ling seems to give up on modesty by the fourth song, resting his head on her shoulder. She feels his breath on her neck and does not have the willpower to push him away because he fits so perfectly in the crook of her neck and his footsteps are so heavy and she wonders if secondhand drunkenness is real and he doesn't walk the way he used to.</p><p>"How do you know she loves him?" His voice rumbles into the skin of her collarbone and makes her stomach do flips.</p><p>"Who?"</p><p>"Lieutenant Hawkeye."</p><p>She rests her chin on his head like it's second nature, like they've done this a million times before. "The way she speaks to him. She's in a position of service, technically, but-"</p><p>"She's his equal." </p><p>"Something like that."</p><p>His thoughtful hm reverberates through her bones, and she pushes his hair out of his face to reveal peacefully closed eyes; he appears content in her arms, too exhausted to watch his own back any longer. He puts his complete trust in her. "'Fan."</p><p>"Hm?"</p><p>"I-" He hesitates around his next sentence like it's a too-big orange slice, trapped in the corners of his mouth. "I'm tired."</p><p>"It's late, my lord. We should head home."</p><p>He shakes his head. "Soon. Just a while longer, Lan Fan. Just a while."</p><p>She does not deny him. She cannot. Should not.</p><p>Will not.</p><p>Loving him won't do her any good, but it's irreversible.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. november 1, 1922</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>20 days</p><p>"Feel how cold my hands are!" chirps Ling, pressing his hands onto the exposed skin of Lan Fan's neck.</p><p>They're sitting alone above the palace, far above the Emperor's audience chamber where Ling is supposed to be. She couldn't very well not follow him, even though she's very skeptical about why he's doing this- he's never been one to shirk his responsibilities. He's a good Emperor, and he likes the work; today, though, he beckoned her to follow him out. They walked in silence(more specifically, Ling walked- Lan Fan bounded above him, leaping from one rooftop to another) to the wall that separates the Imperial Palace from the outside world. With some effort, Ling scuffled onto the top of the wall and perched himself on top of an empty guard tower, high above the ground.</p><p>She followed suit because she had to, standing by his side with her feet splayed for balance. Ling scoffed and made her sit down, and now they are in a position that is entirely too informal for Lan Fan's taste- squeezed together on the thin wall of the tower, and now his freezing hands on her neck.</p><p>She winces- both at the impropriety of it, and at the feeling of his hands, which are like blocks of ice. "My lord, please-"</p><p>With a chuckle, Ling retracts his hands and folds them inside his sleeves. He looks like he'd like to sit cross-legged, but there isn't enough room for him to pull his legs up onto the ledge. "Sorry," he says absently. "You're sensitive to cold?"</p><p>She finds herself taking offense to the question, even though he doesn't mean anything by it. "No, my lord, your hands are just freezing."</p><p>He grins at her in his smug little way, which Lan Fan knows well. Usually, he doesn't have the courage to direct such an expression toward her. "I think your tolerance for extreme temperatures has decreased," he declares, placing a hand on her well-layered right arm, "it's nothing to be ashamed of."</p><p>"I'm not-" Her mouth snaps shut when she realizes she's being made fun of. "It's not funny, my lord."</p><p>"It's a little funny."</p><p>"No, it's not."</p><p>Ling snorts, resting his forehead on her shoulder- it's only for a moment, but she stiffens all the same. Her eyes stick, very suddenly, on a flock of birds in the distance. "My lord-"</p><p>"I've missed you," he interrupts.</p><p>"You see me every day," she responds, grateful for the cover of her mask. Her face feels uncomfortably warm beneath it.</p><p>"Not the way I'd like to. It's-" He takes a moment to gather his thoughts- something she's noticed him doing much more recently, like there's something he doesn't want to let slip. "It's different, from the way it used to be. Before."</p><p>She can't disagree with that. "Hm," she assents.</p><p>"Sometimes I just... need a moment." Something sits uncomfortably in the silence between them, and Lan Fan does not prod at it. "I'm grateful for everything my people have done for me, the love they've offered, but it's- I guess it's too much," he says with a laugh. "How ironic is that?"</p><p>She remains silent.</p><p>"The man who wanted everything," Ling continues, "who took a demon into his flesh for it. Suddenly having more than he needs." Sadness tinges the edges of his words, even as he tries to sound amused at his fate.</p><p>"You lost more than you needed to," she says to allay his sadness, tilting her face up to the sky so she won't have to look at him. "That day... your vassal, your friend. Your childhood, my lord. It's only fair that things start to go right for a change."</p><p>"I suppose you're right, Lan Fan," he says, but it's clear he doesn't believe it. </p><p>Ling looks at his hands and does not speak, and they sit that way for a long while. </p><p>"That cloud is shaped like an owl."</p><p>"I see a sparrow," she responds.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. november 6, 1922</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>15 days</p><p>When Ling faints in the middle of the afternoon, she thinks nothing of it; it's routine. She could fix it herself with a plate of pork buns and a mug of cocoa- she knows that, but she's not going to break protocol. Especially when it comes to her lord's safety.</p><p>So, she carries him from the courtyard to his bedroom through a well-hidden passage, built immediately after the palace doctors were informed of his condition. No one in Xing is meant to know that their Emperor has the capacity to be fragile, and Lan Fan is willing to play along.</p><p>The doctor arrives in the Imperial chambers soon after she does. She's already vacated to the rafters when the portly old man bursts in, scratching the back of his mostly-bald head and pulling anxiously at his ponytail, which seems to be holding on by a thread. </p><p>Lan Fan observes the doctor as he checks the Emperor's heartbeat, presses forceful fingers to his chest and neck; Ling's forehead has become slick with sweat, his complexion ruddy even though he hasn't done any physical activity all day. </p><p>The doctor finishes his examination abruptly and turns his gaze on her. "You're Lan Fan, correct?" She startles, caught off guard by his bluntness and his willingness to address her directly- no one is supposed to acknowledge the Emperor's guard without direct orders from the Emperor himself. She nods dumbly.</p><p>"His Imperial Majesty will want you here when he wakes up," he says with almost off-putting confidence. "Don't let anyone else take your place. Do you understand?"</p><p>"Yes, but-"</p><p>"And don't let him get out of bed when he's awake. I'm aware that he can be stubborn, but keep him down and send someone to come get me. Don't leave his side."</p><p>She wonders if it's a job requirement for doctors to be so frank.  "Of course."</p><p>"Keep your eyes on him, alright? He'll be fine, but just-"</p><p>"Watch him. I understand."</p><p>The doctor nods once and turns quickly out of the room with his lips pressed into a disbelieving line, leaving Lan Fan alone at the Emperor's bedside; with practiced agility, she climbs up into the rafters to survey the room better.</p><p>Ling is quiet in his sleep, which Lan Fan is entirely unaccustomed to. She's used to him shifting around as he regains consciousness, stretching out thin hands to grab her wrists and mumbling "food" in an endearingly whiny tone- but it's been nearly fifteen minutes and he still hasn't begun to squirm around, which begins to raise alarms on the outskirts of Lan Fan's mind that she quickly pushes away. He's only overexerted, she thinks, noting that she'll have to bully him into eating more than enough breakfast for the next few days so he can regain his strength.</p><p>Lan Fan crouches on the ceiling beam for over half an hour before Ling begins to wake up. She sees the signs of it in the way that his eyes begin to twitch beneath his eyelids, his fingers gripping the sheets so hard that she thinks they may tear. "L-"</p><p>Hearing the first syllable of her name, she leaps to the ground and moves to kneel at his bedside, her hand hovering just above his tensed arm, his knuckles turning white with the effort of keeping such a tight hold on the bedsheet. "I'm here, my lord."</p><p>"Lan Fan," he says in full. He can't hear her, hardly registers she's there, but his hand begins to gravitate toward hers. She doesn't move as he digs his fingernails into her flesh, but can't help sucking in air through her teeth at the stinging pain. "Lan-"</p><p>"You're alright, my lord."</p><p>She resists the temptation to peel his-freezing cold, she thinks, when did his hands get so cold- fingers off her arm. "Are you here?" he manages, his thumb beginning to rub circles on her forearm. She can tell he's awake and just refusing to look at her lest he be disappointed.</p><p>"I'm always here."</p><p>He heaves a sigh. One eye peeks open and drinks in her face with fervor. "Right."</p><p>"You were unconscious." </p><p>"You worried for me," he says with a half-smile that's more pathetic than charming, as Lan Fan takes in his sweat-marked face and messy hair, having long fallen out of his neat ponytail. "You know this is normal."</p><p>"You should let go of my arm now, my lord." She changes the subject quickly because of course she worried, because it wasn't normal in the slightest. It was strange and silent and altogether disturbing and Lan Fan never wants to experience something like that again.</p><p>"Ah. I should." </p><p>He doesn't. Lan Fan's face twists in annoyance behind her mask. She hopes he can't tell.</p><p>"You're frowning."</p><p>Damn. "No, my lord, I'm not."</p><p>"Your qi's all mangled, and your eyes are narrowed. You're mad at me."</p><p>"I'm not, my lord," she says firmly.</p><p>"Are, too."</p><p>"Am not."</p><p>"Are, too."</p><p>She exhales in annoyance, covering his hand with her own and starting to pry his fingers off one by one. "Li- my lord," she corrects quickly as he holds onto her with a vice grip. "You know I'm never angry with you."</p><p>"You're angry with everyone else, and never me." He tilts his head curiously and pulls his hand away to fold both his arms over his belly. "Why is that?"</p><p>"I'm not angry with everyone else."</p><p>"What are you, then? When your qi is all twisted up and red, you're not angry?" He smiles like the cat that caught the canary.</p><p>"I'm only frustrated. Other people frustrate me more than you do. I'm never really angry." Lan Fan rises, puttering about the room, doing her best to fill the role of caregiver since there are no servants present. "Do you feel alright?"</p><p>"I'm fine." He hesitates, seeming to think about it. "Some w-"</p><p>She's at his bedside with a glass before he can get the word out(she saw his chapped lips before he was coherent enough to feel them), and offers it to him with a steady hand. He looks at her gratefully.</p><p>Lan Fan looks away. "Any better?"</p><p>"Very much so," he says, handing the glass back to her. "Thank you."</p><p>"The doctor should be back soon." Carefully turning words over in her mouth, she says, "I expected him to stay here and watch you, but he didn't. Do you know why?"</p><p>He shrugs, but his face betrays him. "No idea."</p><p>"He told me you'd want me here when you woke."</p><p>"I always want you here."</p><p>Her eyes widen. "My lord, you can't just-"</p><p>"I'm sorry." He chuckles, sitting up. Lan Fan hurries over to push him back to the pillow. "I don't want to lay down anymore."</p><p>"The doctor told me to keep you horizontal."</p><p>"'Fan," Ling whines, sitting up again. "I'm going to go crazy."</p><p>"Just for a little while longer," she says, holding his shoulder down to the pillow so he can't keep fighting against her. "You can't just move around whenever you feel like it. That's not fair to the doctor."</p><p>He groans. "Doctor this, Doctor that. Everything's about goddamn doctors recently."</p><p>"What do you mean, my lord?"</p><p>"They're just- they're all over me, Lan Fan, and I can hardly take a breath without everyone scratching down notes about my condition."</p><p>"What condition?"</p><p>He goes on like he didn't hear her question. "It's like they've forgotten that I'm the leader of a country, not a damn test subject."</p><p>"My lord, what condition?"</p><p>He freezes, ceasing his efforts to push against her hold. "...What?"</p><p>"Your condition. You said something about a condition, and it-" He doesn't walk the way he used to.</p><p>He shoves her off, hand covering hers. "Nothing." </p><p>His hands are so cold.</p><p>"What condition?"</p><p>"Stop- it's- It doesn't concern you."</p><p>For the first time in her life, she does not back down. "My lord."</p><p>"I'm," and she can see his resilience breaking down as he speaks, watches the facade he puts up for her fall, and she can't bear to hear the next word because he's- "I'm."</p><p>The sentence ends there, and she presses him. "You're what?" she asks, having a sinking feeling about what's going to come from that mouth of his and she does not want to hear it. She doesn't want to hear it as much as Ling doesn't want to say it, but the guilt of keeping something from her is written all over his face.</p><p>"I'm sick," he tells her, and the words grab at the edges of his throat like fish on hooks.</p><p>She stares at him. "You're sick."</p><p>"They're saying it's going to kill me."</p><p>She blinks. "No."</p><p>"I'm sorry."</p><p>"No, you're not-"  Her fingernails are biting into the palms of her hands, and she doesn't even feel the sting. "You can't be."</p><p>"The doctors are saying it's a result of having a Philosopher's Stone ripped from me so quickly." He smiles, and ten thousand fists clench around Lan Fan's heart. "There's not a lot of people they can test on, though. Always knew I was special."</p><p>Greed. Of course it's Greed's fault. Isn't everything?</p><p>She stares at him and tries for what feels like hours to answer him. Her lips keep opening to speak, over and over again, but nothing comes out.</p><p>What do you say when the man you love tells you he's dying?</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. november 8, 1922</h2></a>
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    <p>13 days</p><p>"Do you hate him?"</p><p>Ling is bound to his bed for the next two weeks, and Lan Fan refuses to leave his side for more than a second. He's started to worry about her, her sleepless nights and refusal of food and bath- she'd deny oxygen if she thought it would save him- but she can distract him easily with a plate full of food or a jigsaw puzzle and she uses that knowledge to her advantage.</p><p>As it is now, she's sitting in the plush orange chair next to his bed, somewhere between sleep and consciousness, and he's asking-</p><p>"Lan Fan?"</p><p>"Hate who?" she asks, her eyes opening against her will because she has to speak to him. She will deny herself sleep for as long as it takes for him to feel better.</p><p>"Him," he says, as though that clarifies it any further. "Greed."</p><p>She blanches at the name, the word, the concept. He notices and does not say anything about it.</p><p>When she answers, she answers too quickly. "No. I don't hate him, my lord."</p><p>He seems to believe her. She is left to her thoughts.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. november 9, 1922</h2></a>
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    <p>12 days</p><p>In all honesty, she does hate Greed.</p><p>Ling loved him like a best friend- or a brother, or something more that Lan Fan could not understand if she tried. She knows that Greed protected her lord, and yet she cannot find it in herself to forgive him.</p><p>She didn't know him well- she met him twice, maybe three times. They fought together, almost, on the roof of Central. The day Fu died. </p><p>She's heard Ling talk about him before, on the rare occasion that he finds himself in the right circumstances to do so(usually only with Edward Elric; they affectionately call him the selfish bastard and reminisce on all the mistakes he once made). He looked up to the homonculus; saw in him everything he wasn't, everything he didn't have the courage to be.</p><p>The thought of it disgusts her. The creature that was inside him was far from him. There is a fine line between ambition and avarice, and Ling's fond recollections of his relationship with Greed concern her. She does not want him to seek to become the monster.</p><p>She remembers those months of reaching for his qi and finding only a stinking mass of tortured souls. They enveloped his core and he became them; when Lan Fan would reach out for him, it felt like drowning. She remembers headaches; weeping when Fu's back was turned; an arm that stung in the rain.</p><p>And now- after everything he suffered, they suffered together, he is dying because of Greed. </p><p>That writhing beast that lived within him, keeping him impossibly alive through gunshots and stab wounds, is killing him retrospectively and she is powerless to stop it.</p><p>For the third time in her life, Lan Fan is completely useless. She can't sacrifice her arm, her family, her life to save him this time.</p><p>It feels like her heart is being ripped out of her chest when she looks at him, asleep under the covers. He doesn't stop sweating, even though the doctors have confirmed that he isn't feverish.</p><p>Lan Fan is not going to let him die.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. november 13, 1922</h2></a>
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    <p>8 days</p><p>May Chang arrives in a flash of color and sound; she's coming straight from the train, still carrying her pink purse while her attendants lug the rest of her trunks behind her. "Where's my brother?" she asks frantically, searching the room with anxious eyes. "Lan Fan-?"</p><p>Ling raises an arm and waves at her. "May."</p><p>"My god," May says as she approaches him, "you look awful." </p><p>She's not wrong; he's been sleepless, recently, and losing energy fast. There are dark bags under his eyes, and his hair sticks to his forehead; his fine silk shirt hangs open at his chest, but clings like a vice to his arms.</p><p>He's strong enough to laugh. "Just what I wanted to hear." </p><p>After some tucking and adjusting around his body- which Ling did not ask for, but does not say no to because there's no stopping his sister- May sits down and turns her gaze on Lan Fan.</p><p>Perched, as always, in the orange chair she's confined herself to, she flashes a half-smile at May, who, in turn, gives her a concerned once-over. "Brother," she inquires as lightly as she can, "what have you been doing to our poor Lan Fan?"</p><p>Lan Fan has not looked in a mirror recently, but she assumes she looks just about as bad as Ling does. Maybe worse.</p><p>Suddenly self conscious, she tries to tame her hair- which has slid gradually out of its bun and now hangs heavy at her neck. "Sorry, I haven't been-"</p><p>"She hasn't left my side in almost a week," Ling answers for her. She's grateful. She doesn't really care for speaking to anyone but the Emperor.</p><p>May sticks him with a glare. "Your orders?"</p><p>"No, my lady," Lan Fan responds because Ling looks terrified, and she knows better than anyone that May never really takes her brother's word unless someone else confirms it. "My choice."</p><p>Eyes softening as she looks at Lan Fan, her favorite of Ling's servants, May nods. "Alright." Then, she purses her lips and puts a hand on her brother's wrist, in her uniquely May way that is so mean while still managing to be affectionate, she adds, "Maybe if you'd told me you were sick, I could have come and absolved your poor noble servant of her duty."</p><p>"She wouldn't leave even if you threatened her life," Ling says with a chuckle, placing his free hand on top of May's. "You know Lan Fan."</p><p>May does know Lan Fan- two and a half weeks in the desert, being forced to care for one another despite the hate sown between clans, tend to bring people closer together whether they like it or not- but that does not stop her from narrowing her eyes at Ling. "I could've helped."</p><p>"I didn't want to worry you."</p><p>"You think it's less concerning to enter this palace with the expectation of having tea with you and Lan Fan, and instead being told that you're bedridden, and have been for six days?" Ling shrinks back at May's reprimand, finally recognizing his grave mistake. "People are saying you're dying!"</p><p>His gaze flicks anxiously to Lan Fan's, who averts her eyes. May notices. "Is there something you haven't told me?" she asks forcefully. "You're not-"</p><p>Ling squeezes her hand and smiles wanly. "Of course I'm not," he reassures her, "you know how palace rumors are. They blow everything out of proportion."</p><p>Lan Fan stares at him as he carries on a conversation with his sister, looking weaker by the moment. </p><p>She thinks May deserves to know, but it isn't her place to say anything.</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. november 18, 1922</h2></a>
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    <p>3 days</p><p>His condition gets worse.</p><p>The doctors won't let anyone help him out of bed- they worry that his bones might be too frail to support any weight at all. His body is tearing him apart, needing every part of him and taking it without the slightest indication of consent, and Lan Fan knows that soon, there will be nothing left of him to give. There's barely anything left as it is.</p><p>She spends her days reading to him, because his fingers shake and hands falter at the slightest contact; in the afternoons, May sits on his bed and plays games of chess with him- he orders the pieces around, she moves them for him.</p><p>Lan Fan sees the sadness in his eyes when he has to tell someone else to fetch him something, or give an order that he cannot fulfill himself. She knows that Ling likes to work; if he could do every little chore in Xing, and manage the big picture things, and work in factories and laboratories, he would do so without hesitation. His heart breaks anew every time she reads to him, every time someone else cooks for him, every time someone else signs a document in his name.</p><p>"Lan Fan," he says quietly one day, reaching out for her. She does not close the distance, but she comes to kneel by his side. "You can go. If you want to."</p><p>Her breath catches in her throat, and when she looks at him, he is smiling.</p><p>She wants to shout at him, because he's dying, and he has to stop pretending like he isn't being consumed from the inside by the aftermath of the beast he spent his childhood chasing.</p><p>"I'm not going anywhere," she tells him instead, and her voice shakes.</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. november 21, 1922</h2></a>
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    <p>2 hours</p><p>In the middle of the night, Ling tugs on her sleeve.</p><p>She hasn't slept; how could she, when his condition worsens and every second she sleeps is a second she loses?</p><p>"Hey," he says, like everything is normal, and he's about to beg her to follow him to the kitchen for a late-night snack.</p><p>"Hi."</p><p>He smiles at her, his goofy Ling smile, and reaches up to brush her bangs out of her face. "It's late. You should sleep."</p><p>"I'm alright."</p><p>"You have to take better care of yourself." It's a reprimand she's heard a million times before. "Have you been oiling your automail, like Knox told you?"</p><p>"When I have the chance."</p><p>"Find more. Chances, I mean. That's an order."</p><p>"I will, my lord," she says, amused. "Are you feeling better?"</p><p>He hesitates before he answers, meeting her with a grin. "Yes," he responds confidently, curling fingers into her loose hair, "much better."</p><p>"Good." She imagines him getting out of bed, taking a turn about the room, jumping onto rooftops like he used to. It's wishful thinking, but it's something. "I'm glad to hear it."</p><p>"You know what? Me, too."</p><p>They sit that way for a while- his hands on her face, hers in her lap, a gap between them that Ling is doing all he can to close- before he lifts the covers. "C'mere," he says. "Sleep."</p><p>"That's not-"</p><p>"'Fan," he says, and he meets her eyes. There is something within them that she does not like.</p><p>She sits on the edge of his bed, and he lays his head in her lap. When she tentatively places a hand on his shoulder, the space beneath the skin feels hollow; empty.</p><p>He falls asleep easily, and she feels her eyelids begin to flutter and close; she supports her body on her automail arm, but it's starting to feel like a chore. She wonders who it would hurt if she closed her eyes, just for a moment. </p><p>It's not a waste of time to sleep now, because-</p><p>Because she loves him, and how is it a waste of time when he is right there?</p><p>He's not as warm as he once was, but it's alright; it's still Ling.</p><p>Lan Fan flops down onto her back because she cannot help it, and Ling's body weight is heavy on her flesh arm but she's not going to wake him. He hasn't slept this soundly in days; his breathing is steady and consistent and it's there, she thanks God that it's there, and she thinks that maybe, just maybe-</p><p>—</p><p>The bed is cold when she wakes. There is no hint that he might have been there; no sign of his existence beyond the dog-eared Amestrian book on his bedside table.</p><p>May is crying outside.</p><p>Gritting her teeth, Lan Fan grabs a fistful of sheets that don't smell like him anymore and wishes that she hadn't been so weak.</p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. april 30, 1924</h2></a>
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    <p>"Lan Fan, come on!" calls May, waving to her from the end of the platform.</p><p>Securing her mask over her face, a noble servant to the Imperial family follows her mistress.</p><p>Her lady.</p><p>— </p><p>She was reassigned to May's security by Ling's order, effective immediately following his death; the country grieved their beloved leader, the man who loved all of Xing like the children he'd never get to have, who would not let himself be manipulated, who served in the interest of the country rather than his own(unlike his father before him).</p><p>Ling passed the title of Emperor to the eldest of the Emperor's sons, a man of the Hua clan called Zou. Lan Fan remembers him scheduling several dinners with Zou and his family in the months before he died; the Huas were poor, like the Changs and the Yaos. Zou had given his word to even the score between all fifty clans, and Ling had trusted him with the duty.</p><p>Lan Fan and May left for Ishval immediately following the funeral, and they cried together on the train. For a brother. A childhood friend, a longtime love. May became the first and only member of Ling's inner circle in Xing to learn about the true nature of the illness that killed him so quickly; Lan Fan told her about Ling's relationship with the homonculus, and everything he did during the Promised Day. She knew Ling would shudder at the thought of his beloved sister knowing about the monster that overtook his body for so many months, but she had always thought May deserved to know what had become of her brother during those months in Amestris.</p><p>May claimed she had no idea about Lan Fan's feelings for her lord, but the look on her face gave her away- just like Ling's always did.</p><p>They traveled together. Officially, Lan Fan was the princess's guard; to May, she was a friend and companion, a confidant as she'd been for years. She loved May as Ling did: honestly, and without hesitation. She did the best she could to fill the role of big sister, even though she knew better than anyone that no one could possibly beat Ling. </p><p>They joined the Elrics- usually Alphonse, which May claimed was merely coincidence- on several occasions, visiting ancient ruins and libraries across the East and West. Lan Fan was reminded of the hours she spent when she was a young teenager, studying the Philosopher's Stone in various libraries throughout Amestris.</p><p>They went to Ishval many times, watched its people rebuild from the ground up. Lan Fan worked with them, arms blistering beneath the hot sun as the women taught her to bandage a wound properly, the best way to distribute salve to relax her muscles; a woman called Shan developed a balm to help cool the plate where the metal of her arm fused with her shoulder. </p><p>Scar, the man who May often referred to as her surrogate father and Lan Fan remembers from their brief meeting in the sewers beneath Central City, met her with grunts and short phrases reminiscent of Fu's; she found herself enjoying the work by Scar's side, piling brick and chopping wood in relative silence, while May preferred to spend her time beneath the canvas canopies with the wisewomen, learning all she could about their traditional medicine and the healing properties of sparse desert plants.</p><p>In Amestris, they spent their days at Dr. Knox's- much to his apparent chagrin, even though every time they offered to stay elsewhere he told them they were being "prideful, ungrateful fools", and forced them into his spare rooms anyway. Lan Fan often visited Brigadier General Hawkeye, who looked at her with sad eyes and offered her more cookies than she could possibly eat.</p><p>Lan Fan's days were full with learning, and meeting, and working; May made sure there was never a dull moment, and when she thought Lan Fan might be getting bored, she started teaching her basic alkahestry, or insisting she fix a pipe or write a letter. No one gave her much time to grieve, and she was grateful. She never cared for the people that wasted their time moping over things that had passed- and so she chose not to. She pushed thoughts of Ling to the back of her mind and worked, harder than she ever had before.</p><p>—</p><p>She sits beside May on the hard wooden bench, crossing her legs beneath her and settling in for a long train ride of staring out the window(she's never been good at reading on trains the way May is; it makes her nauseous).</p><p>The train, bound for Ishval, sets into motion. May buries her head in a book, and Lan Fan stares at the expanse of desert before her- the very desert she once crossed on foot, before the rail system that Ling insisted upon was installed- and after a moment, something gold crops up on the horizon.</p><p>Lan Fan rubs her eye, and it still doesn't go away. She supposes that one of the countries on either side of the desert must have commissioned a statue.</p><p>As they draw closer, she starts to make out the details, and it's- Ling. Sculpted in gold, taller than life- she imagines it must be ten feet tall- and unmistakably Ling, accurate to the curve of his jaw and the slope of his neck. He holds his hand aloft, the vial he carried his Philosopher's Stone in sitting upright on his palm.</p><p>Turning around, she grabs May's wrist. "Did you-?" she asks hoarsely, her voice almost a whimper.</p><p>May shakes her head, a bittersweet smile on her lips. "I didn't."</p><p>Lan Fan lets go to press her hand against the window, tracing the fine line of his cheek, just as it used to be, illuminated by the sun.</p><p>For one moment, he is within and without.</p><p>She misses him. She misses him, the second person in her lifetime she was incapable of protecting, the only person she ever loved; he was honest, and proud, and stupid and ambitious and she wants him back more than anything. Her shoulders shake with the effort of holding back tears.</p><p>"I love you," she whispers, because she will never have the chance to say it to his face again. </p><p>I'm sorry, she thinks, because she is. </p><p>Was. </p><p>Will be. </p><p>She was never meant to live longer than he did. She never wanted to; he was meant to live centuries in the sun, and have a dozen wives and ten thousand children.</p><p>She could not save him. Twice, she could not save him, and her failure ate him alive, as it is eating her.</p><p>Her throat hurts, and she can't tear her eyes away from the statue; it's a perfect recreation. They didn't mess up, not even a little.</p><p>It hurts more, that way.</p><p>He smiles toward Xing, and Lan Fan does not cry.</p><p>She doesn't look away from him until she's forced to, when her neck is starting to ache and the shape of him has become a dot against the blue sky, and she promises him-</p><p>She promises a lot of things, in those moments, alone on a train seat with the desert heat seeping through the thin windows.</p><p>She promises to do her best to not hate Greed. She promises to oil her automail.</p><p>She promises she will not fail May as she failed him.</p><p>When Lan Fan closes her eyes, she sees him on the backs of her eyelids, and cannot remember what his voice once sounded like.</p>
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